Amok Time
by This is My Truth Tell Me Yours
Summary: A collection of stories based on somewhat unusual pairings. Hints at abuse and adult themes. It's not too graphic, but it's rated M, just to be safe.
1. Voldemort and Rodolphus

_**Disclaimer:**_ _The ideas are mine, the characters are not..._

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 _ **Warning**_ _: This is Rated M, there's nothing too graphic, but there's much implied. Mentions of adult themes._

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 _ **Historical Note**_ _: Set During the First War_

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 _ **Prompts:**_

 _ **Pairing**_ _\- Voldemort / Rodolphus_

 _ **Words -**_ _Indemnification; Displeased; Afraid_

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"Close the door," the dark lord ordered, and Rodolphus obeyed.

The room was freezing cold. The large window opposite the door was opened to the snow covered grounds of the Victorian property, and Rodolphus could see the air out of his mouth as he breathed. The young man wore a plain white shirt, which, however elegant, was not at all warm enough to shield him from the winter breeze. Be that as it may, the eldest son of the Lestrange house knew that the shiver he felt running down his spine as soon as he entered the room had nothing to do with the weather.

"My Lord," he bowed, paying his respects to his master, but the Dark Lord did not respond. He just stood there, his back turned at Rodolphus, spinning his wand in his fingers.

Rodolphus grew nervous. His long dark hair had been tied without much care and a strand of it fell over his eyes as he watched his master, wondering, but not daring to ask, why he had been summoned here. In the silence of the room Rodolphus could hear his heart pounding against his chest. It was so loud he wouldn't be surprised if the dark lord could hear it too, but it wasn't within his power to do anything to change that.

"I have become aware of certain things that happened in the past, Rodolphus…" The Dark Lord said, turning back but keeping his eyes in his wand. He spoke slowly, savoring every word. "I was… displeased."

And when he looked Rodolphus in the eye, a sequence of images and memories was projected in the young man's mind. Those were old memories, but he remembered them well. He enjoyed that moment. He often relived it in his mind. But this time it was different. The images passed in front of his eyes in rapid succession, some of them from his own perspective, some from a different angle, from the eyes of the only other person in the room. He could see her, the bed, the tears, the blood, the scream. It lasted but a fraction of a second, thought it felt like a great deal more. And he was angry. Angry at her. What business did she have telling on him to the dark lord? Behaving like the spoiled child that was the only thing she'd ever been taught to be. Was it not enough that he had to endure her?

"You enjoyed that…" The Dark Lord stated with cold disappointment, interrupting Roldolphus' angry thoughts. Even he could feel the veiled anger in his master's words.

"No. No. My Lord," he started, bowing again and looking at the wooden floor as he spoke, "I don't understand, those images, I don't know—" His words were vague and desperate. "Lies, my lord,… I've been meaning to come to you. That woman… unworthy… lies, all lies, that woman's been feeding you lies."

"Be quiet." Voldemort said, his voice suddenly sharper and colder than before, and Rodolphus was quiet. The Dark Lord's words cut like invisible steel.

It took a few seconds for the Dark Lord to speak again, his voice back to his previous tone.

"Bella does not lie to me." He said, simply, " You, however, are trying too. Tell, me, why do you disrespect me so? Are you so arrogant as to believe you can fool me?"

Rodolphus felt something pushing him down and his knees hit the floor hard. His head was still low.

"No, my Lord. No, no disrespect. Never. My life is to serve you—"

"You enjoy using force, Rodolphus. You enjoyed it with her. And now perhaps you think you can overpower me…" The Dark Lord suggested.

"No! Never, my Lord!" He protested vehemently, shaking his head violently. There was obvious fear in his voice.

"I do not understand… I offer you so many opportunities. There are so many filthy muggles and mudbloods for your amusement, and yet, you felt the need to commit an act of violence."

Rodolphus breathed heavily. His skin was icy cold but his fear made him quite unaware of the freezing temperature of the room.

"Tell me, Rodolphus, would you not say I am a merciful master?"

"Yes, yes, of course, my lord." He answered quickly.

"Than you can understand that I cannot condone such an act of violence. That kind of brutality must be punished."

As he said that, Rodolphus noticed, with panic in his eyes, that his shirt was being unbuttoned slowly, one button at a time, starting from the collar down, no doubt on account of some sophisticated non verbal spell the Dark Lord had cast upon him. That was the prelude of something and envisioning what that something might be filled Rodolphus with fear.

"My Lord, My Lord, surely you know—" He begged, desperately and afraid "That was so long ago, we were both young, we were not married, I didn't have the mark,—" He explained, watching yet another button undo itself. "A boyish act, my lord, youthful foolery, surely you understand— Surely you can forgive—"

"Forgive?" Voldemort's voice was cold. "You dare asking forgiveness after such an act of brutality? You dare suggest that was a boyish joke? A child's play? You deny the severity of your actions and dares to beg forgiveness when the first requirement for forgiveness is that one should be sorry…"

"I am! I am sorry, my, lord…" And even as he said that a new flash of images from that day flooded his brain. He remembered it all so vividly. He remembered how he forced himself and how good that made him feel… How… in control. He remembered smiling at the end of it, and laughing about it afterwards. Rodolphus could see himself throughout her eyes, but he could not feel her emotions through the memories. The emotions were all his. He had been proud, powerful, better. Even thinking about it made him feel that way all over again. "I am sorry! Terribly sorry! I will never do it again,… So sorry, my lord."

"Why do you lie to me?" The Dark Lord asked, softly. Rodolphus shirt was half unbuttoned now, and his belt was unfastening itself as the Dark Lord spoke again. "You are not sorry, Rodolphus. You will never do it again, because the power of your magic cannot compare to hers. And you will never forget about it because I will not allow it. That kind of violence must not go unpunished."

"No, my Lord, I promise!" Rodolphus begged, his voice close to yelling now, his face wet with tears of despair. "I have been your faithful servant, for years, I am loyal, I—"

"It makes me sad," the Dark Lord interrupted him, and although Lestrange stopped talking immediately he did not stop crying. "that you do not realize the violence of your actions. You cry, not because you are sorry, but because you are afraid of death. I will not kill you, Rodolphus—"

"Thank you, thank you my lord—"

"But I will make you understand the brutality of what you did. I will make sure you do not forget it. I believe the only to do that is to make you go through the same thing you made her go through."

"My Lord? I don't understand—" Rodolphus said, panic returning to his voice.

"Stand up, Rodolphus."

"My, Lord? Please—" He started, standing up and realizing that his shirt was unbuttoned, as well as his trousers, his belt was unfastened, and his shoes had been untied. Sudden realization of what was about to happen came to his face and once again his voice was raised an octave, close to a scream, "My Lord, no! I beg you! Please! No!"

"Rodolphus… Remove your clothes."

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 _ **Author's Note:**_ _I wrote this for the_ _ **Creepy Pairing of the Day**_ _[Speed-Drabble Competition] (Rodolphus / Voldemort) combined with the_ _ **Pairing Diversity Boot Camp Challenge**_ _(Prompt 43: Indemnification) and_ **The Minor Character Boot Camp** (prompt 1 - Afraid) _. Those two seemed to go together. I figured it's a nice challenge to get stories up fast and to write stuff that's a bit out of my comfort zone. This turned out to be a little bit more than a drabble... I don't think I'll be able to write every day, but I might turn this into a collection of dribbles/one shots for those particular competitions. In addition, I have combined this with the following challenges:_

 _I hope this is not too graphic. I don't think it is. I certainly didn't intend for it to be. I enjoy writing about the Black sisters and Bellatrix, and I have developed some head cannon for many Slytherin characters - whose characteristics, other than blind allegiance to the Dark Side, are largely overlooked. I think there's something to Bellatrix' madness, some wounds that are a lot deeper than one might have thought at first... I have hinted at one of these wounds here. It would have taken place before Bella and Rodolphus were married, and before they became Death Eaters, actually, just before they started their final year in Hogwarts. Bella did not tell the dark Lord anything, as Rodolphus assumes, the dark lord found out when he was instructing her in Occlumency. And the fact that he punished Rodolphus, the fact that he is somewhat, protective of Bella, a protectiveness and tutoring to which she had not had access before, these things are at the root of her loyalty for the Dark Lord. I'll write more about this on my LiveJournal.. I hope you think it's an interesting fic. Unbeta'd. Please write a review and let me know what did you think._

 _LLAP_

 _PS: The title is a Star trek reference (TOS)... Hopefully some potterheads out there are also trekkies and understand why "Amok Time" is actually a good title for a collection of pairing-driven stories. At least I thought so..._


	2. Abraxas Malfoy and Tom Riddle Jr

_**Disclaimer:**_ _The ideas are mine, the characters are not..._

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 _ **Historical Note**_ _: Set During the First War_

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 _ **Prompts:**_

 _ **Pairing**_ _\- Abraxas Malfoy / Tom Riddle_

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"What about Mulciber?" One of them asked.

They all laughed.

"Oh, please!" Cygnus answered. "He chews with his mouth open. It's disturbing. Not to mention the way he walks!"

"Forget the way he walks," Abraxas interjected, "did you ever take a look at that nose?"

"How could I not? It occupies half the room!"

They burst into laughter again. It was a dull autumn day, and everybody felt like staying inside. Abraxas could understand that. He had been outside, for Quiditch practice, and by the time he got back to the castle Malfoy was tired, soaked in water from the storm and covered in mud from head to toe. He took a long and relaxing shower and walked to his room, only to find his 5th year colleagues there, already, engaged in conversation to pass the dull weekend.

How they got into the subject of marking other students on their good looks, though, was baffling, but Abraxas went with it. And because he was who he was, the final word was always his.

"Definitely a four." Someone concluded the Mulciber portion of the conversation, and there were mumbles of agreement around the dorm.

"If I was going to go that way…" Abraxas started, and the laughter calmed down as the other boys looked at him. "It would have to be someone like… Nott." He finished, throwing a Fizzi Wizzy in the air and catching with his mouth.

"I'll second that." Cygnus agreed, summoning the candy box with his wand "That's a ten."

"Just last year he was all weedy and stringy…" Goyle stated, a bit puzzled.

"Well, he's not stringy now."

"See, Goyle, there's hope for you yet!" Abraxas teased, throwing a cushion at Goyles's face. The other one blushed violently before throwing the cushion at the floor, and shouting:

"Shut up, Malfoy!"

"Uuuuu" The other boys laughed even harder.

"Calm down, Greg. We know Bulstrode likes you just the way you are. Short and unnapealing."

"You're a three, Goyle. Be a proud three."

"It's more like a two to me."

"Shut up!"

"Okay, okay, now that we've established that Greg is a solid two…" Goyle shoot them an angry look "Back to the topic,… What about Tom Riddle? How would you mark him, Ax?"

Abraxas snorted.

"Oh please. If we're talking wizards I can play, but if you're going to bring mud bloods in the game, that's just disgusting."

Just outside the room, a seventeen year old Tom Riddle gazed at his own reflection in the stone of the old fashioned ring on his right hand. A red shadow flashed though his eyes as the heir of Salazar Slytherin burned with anger from inside out. Perhaps the time had come to summon Slytherin's beast from the chamber. He would show them. They laughed at his expense when they thought he was not around... But Lord Voldemort was everywhere. He would make them curse that day in the years to come... Time and time again.

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 _ **Author's Note**_ _: Written for the creepy pairing of the day challenge [prompt: Abraxas Malfoy &Tom Riddle Jr.]_

 _I have recently discovered that a lot of people actually write requited Tom/Abraxas... I write about Abraxas dismissing Voldemort for his blood status, which would make Lucius recruitment in the years to come an act of revenge. In fact, I have another Abraxas &Tom story called Bloodlines. If you like this one, you should check it out. _

_Please **review** if you have the time... I am looking forward to it. _


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